


Their's Is The Fire That Still Burns Six Feet Underground

by penrosequartz



Series: PRQ's Marvel Extravaganza [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Character Death, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Depression, F/F, F/M, Funeral, Gay, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Pietro isn't dead, Roommates, Songfic, Sparring, Training, house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosequartz/pseuds/penrosequartz
Summary: Wanda makes a decision, Fury makes a call, Clint makes a move.ORPietro comes back from the dead, exactly a year after he died in the first place.Based on the song 'Run For Your Life,' by The Fray.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it's 12am there's probably so many mistakes but i'm proud of this fic fite me
> 
> the song is super angsty and it had the word run in it so i was like piETRO MY SON

_If one of us fall, the other will soon be following..._

Clint could see it. He could see Natasha and Vision meet eyes when Wanda’s were red. He could see Tony tense up when someone mentioned Sokovia. He could see Steve flinch when Wanda screamed at night. He couldn’t see Bruce or Thor at all, they’d gone.

Clint could see things other people couldn’t. No one saw Wanda’s hands clench at the mention of her brother, or if they did, they assumed it was because she was still torn up. Clint knew better. The look on Wanda’s face wasn’t angry, or sad - it was _determined_ , and that worried him so much more.

Clint could see it. He could see that Wanda missed having her brother alive so much, that she would miss it more than she’d miss breathing.

Clint could see it. That girl was planning something, and it wasn’t good.

~~~

_Both of you fell the same day..._

Exactly a year after Sokovia and Pietro’s death, there was her body. And there was Pietro, holding her. Clint wasn’t even there. It was Steve who found them.

According to the Captain, Pietro was completely naked. ‘Stark naked’, Tony had joked, before getting glared at and promptly shutting the fuck up. Wanda had somehow sacrificed herself and brought Pietro back, using her magic and some dark, ancient spell. And Pietro was alive.

It was too much to take in. He was alive. _He was alive._

When Clint saw him, he was at Wanda’s funeral.

“Hey, kid,” Clint said softly after the service. Pietro turned, and the eyes that Clint remembered being electric were dulled. “Hey, old man,” his lips curled just the slightest. “So, you’re alive, then,” Clint offered awkwardly. Pietro’s eyebrows furrowed, “Yes, I am. And she is not. Stupid Wanda.”

Clint didn’t notice the tear that slipped gently out of Pietro’s eye, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He only put his arm across Pietro’s back, and hooked it over his shoulder, and pulled the younger man closer. He only glanced up at the sky and flicked his eyes towards Pietro’s again and saw they were a tiny bit brighter than before. He only thought about Wanda and how full of life she was, and how full of life Pietro was now. He only looked over at Natasha and Vision holding hands and looking at the grave. He only wished she was back, and he only wished Pietro would stay forever. He only. He only. He only.

~~~

_You’re desperate to hear her footsteps again..._

Pietro is training hard. He trains in the morning. He trains in the afternoon. He trains in the middle of the night.

In the morning, he trains with the Captain and Black Widow and sometimes others. He learns that the Captain is a soldier, an honorable man, and a good one. He learns of the strange and delicate relationship that formed between his sister and Miss Romanoff and the Vision. Why she would choose to leave that, to die, for him, is a mystery to Pietro. But Miss Romanoff seems to understand it perfectly, somehow. That woman is a red-haired portrait of danger in heels, but she knew Wanda. Even if she didn’t see that coming.

In the afternoon, Pietro trains with the Vision and Tony Stark and sometimes others. He learns that the Vision is skilled and incredible and not a robot, whose love for Wanda ran strong and deep. He learns that Stark is arrogant and ostentatious but very funny, and makes hilarious jokes, and isn’t the sort of guy to drop a bomb on innocent people.

He hadn’t seen Barton much since the funeral, but he remembers how he looked, how his arm felt around him, how true it was compared to how false and unreal Wanda’s death (and his life) felt.

He assumes that Barton is with his family, but when he hears a whisper, and asks about it, he finds that over the past year Barton’s marriage had fallen apart.

“They’re still on good terms,” says one of Pietro’s new friends, Falcon, “They’re still friends. But they’re not married anymore. Laura still lives on the farm, and Clint goes there sometimes. But I don’t think that’s where he’s been.”

Pietro wonders where Clint is. He wonders whether Wanda regrets what she did. He wonders how much the Vision and Miss Romanoff miss his twin. He wonders whether he should stop training so hard. He wonders if he should train more. He wonders. He wonders. He wonders.

Then, one night in the gym, he hears a noise.

“Who is there?” Pietro asked cautiously. “Just me, kid,” comes the familiar voice, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“None of your business, old man,” Pietro laughs, and Clint sighs.

“Seriously, Pietro, why are you here?” He asks, exasperated.

“Well, I’m allowed to be, aren’t I?” Pietro suddenly wonders if he _is_ allowed. This house has rules, he’s sure of that, but he’s an outsider back from the dead, and he doesn’t know what they are.

“Of course you are, Speedy,” Clint smiles. Pietro can just see the dark figure and the curve of Clint’s lips. The gym is only lit by skylights and windows, filling the room with the pale light of the moon and the glint of stars in an inky black sky.

Pietro can feel himself cooling down, his heartbeat slowing. The punching bag that he was hitting is swinging only slightly. “So, Mr. Barton, why are _you_ here?” Pietro asks, throwing another few punches.

“I need to train,” says Clint, voice hardening, “I’ve been away for a little while.”

“I noticed,” Pietro responds, still punching, “Where have you been?”

There’s a pause, and Pietro stops too. Clint replies, tilting his head: “None of your business, _Quicksilver_.”

“Whatever, _Hawkeye_ ,” Pietro answers, scowling, “If you’re gonna train, train. I’ll be done in a bit.”

“Well, there's two of us now,” Clint says, “Spar with me.” He heads into the ring. Pietro shrugs, he might as well.

As they begin lashing at each other, Pietro throwing super-fast punches and trying to land Clint on the ground, Hawkeye strikes up a conversation.

“I don’t know if anyone told you,” he begins easily, “But my ex-wife and I made our child’s middle name Pietro.”

“Only middle name?” Pietro says with a mocking pout.

“Yes, only middle name, you quick bastard. First name’s Nathaniel, after Natasha,” Clint actually, properly laughs, and it's the best sound Pietro’s heard in a while. He remembers the last sound he heard before he died: Wanda’s scream. He wonders if she screamed when she cut open her-

Bam! Pietro is pinned to the floor. While he was distracted, Hawkeye hooked his ankle around Pietro’s leg and pulled him down. Now, Clint’s silhouette hangs over Pietro’s body, panting, and all of a sudden his previous train of thought is gone, and all he’s thinking about is Clint above him, panting.

“You didn't see that coming?” Pietro’s last words sound sweeter rolling off Hawkeye’s tongue. Maybe lots of things taste sweet on Hawkeye’s tongue.

 _‘Stop it,’_ Pietro thinks, _‘He beat you. You need to improve. Stop thinking about that.’_

Pietro tenses, and suddenly it's Clint who’s on his back, wide eyed and breathing hard, and Pietro is trying to build a barrier in his head. With the light behind him now, Pietro can see all the details of Clint’s face, all the lines and the curve of his jaw and the mess of his hair.

~~~

Clint can only see a shadow now, until Pietro smiles, a slash of bright white where moonlight hits his teeth. The white of his hair glints in the dark. His eyes are glittering with something Clint can't quite place.  
This young boy, back from the dead, is pinning Clint down, and Clint feels so alive (especially for 1 in the morning).

Suddenly, the figure above him crumples straight into Clint’s chest, a heavy weight over his heart, and rolls off. Quicksilver stares at the ceiling.

“You ok, kid?” Clint asks.  
“Yeah,” Pietro’s head turns, “About as okay as I’m expected to be.” His eyes stare at Clint.

 _‘He is so beautiful,’_ Clint thinks, before waving the thought away.

“What about you?” Now _that_ , Clint really didn't see coming. The question sounds so genuine and pure coming from Pietro that Clint just answers it.

“I have nightmares every night, about a whole range of subjects. My wife left me. I don't have superpowers and I’m not important to the team. I should just… go. That’s how I am, Speedy,” Clint breathes it all out, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking out the window.

“Oh,” Pietro says. He doesn't say anything else for a little while, and Clint feels his heart sink a little.

“Well, I'm sorry about the nightmares. I wish I could help, but I'm not Wanda,” Pietro nearly chuckles at that, “And I'm sorry about your wife. You are still friends though, apparently.”

“Who told you that?” Clint asks sharply.

“Falcon,” Pietro smirks at him.

“Fucking Wilson, can't keep his damn mouth shut,” Clint frowns, but soon the corners of his lips quirk up.

“And I'm sorry,” Pietro says softly, “But that is simply not true.” His voice sounds thick. “You are very important to the team, Mr. Barton.”

Clint smiles a bit at that. “You can call me Clint, you know,” He smirks.

“Eh, I think _I’ll_ stick to old man.”

~~~

_This house is on fire, we need to go…_

A few weeks after that night in the gym, the house is being reorganised. The Captain and Tony want to make sure everyone is safe and not going to sacrifice themselves, so they transform single bedrooms into double ones. Everyone has a ‘roommate’, Nat and Vision ( _“No funny business,” says Steve with a frown_ ), Clint and Pietro ( _“You guys can do whatever you want,” says Tony with a wink_ ), and even Steve and the one and only Tony Stark himself are sharing a room.

As one might guess, this causes a series of hilarious events. And then, as everyone is slowly relaxing, Clint gets a call.

“Yo, Tony, you're on speaker,” Clint says as he finishes off the card game he’s playing with some of the team.

“Hey, there's a call for you,” Tony says.

“Why didn't they call my- ugh, god,” Clint rolls his eyes and Natasha smiles, “It's probably SHIELD, right?”

“Yep. Patching it through,” Says Tony.

“Have I reached Mr. Barton?” A severe sounding voice cuts through the atmosphere. “Yeah?” Responds Clint.

“Sir, I regret to inform you-”

Pietro flicks the phone off speaker and holds it to Clint’s ear, quick as a flash. It's clearly a private message. Clint smiles a thanks, but his expression quickly morphs into shock and horror. He takes the phone out of Pietro’s hands and whispers “Oh my god, are- are you sure? Ok, understood. thank you.”

As Clint takes the phone away from his ear, Pietro recognises a phrase that the voice on the end of the phone says.

_“I’m very sorry for your loss.”_

“Hawkeye?” Pietro asks curiously. Clint’s face is white as a sheet, his expression unreadable as he stands up.

“What happened, Clint?” Natasha’s eyes are wide.

“There-There’s been a fire. They're _gone_ , Natasha, they're-”

Black Widow seems to move faster than Pietro ever could, holding Clint up as his knees fail. “Clint, breathe,” she says. It’s not supposed to be a comfort, it's a stern reminder, and it works. Clint takes a few deep breaths before sliding to the ground completely, and curling into a ball.

~~~

_She had a fire inside, and that terrified you…_

Wanda’s magic pulsed through his veins. He felt it in him. This, he thought, this is what brought him back to life. He couldn't harness its power, but he could feel it surging through him, like a wave surges through an ocean.

Clint was so much whiter than he used to be. A few days after the call, Clint and Pietro were sitting on the latter’s bed, on opposite ends. Pietro couldn’t think of anything to say.

Suddenly, Clint’s phone rang. He glanced over at it, then at Pietro, his eyes pleading.

Pietro picks up. “Hello, you're on speaker. Mr. Barton is here.”

“Hello, Barton,” the voice growls, and Clint sits up a little straighter. “We have some surprising information,” the voice echoes through the phone, “We recovered the bodies. Laura and Nathaniel are deceased, and it's definitely them, but your other children…”

Clint looks confused, “What are you talking about, Fury?”

“They're not their bodies, Clint. And, we’ve also discovered some evidence that suggests this wasn't an accident. It may have been a targeted attack…”

Clint holds his breath.

“By HYDRA.”

Pietro breathes in quickly. _Shit_ , he thinks, and Clint’s expression darkens.

“You mean to tell me that _HYDRA have my children_?” Clint says angrily.

“Don't, Barton. You have a right to know, but you are _not_ to go looking, you got that? We’ll handle this one,” Fury hangs up the phone.

Pietro had always been in awe of Wanda's magic, and its terrible power. But now, with it surging in him, as he looked at this broken man, he felt hatred for the people who inflicted the damage. The damage on him, on his twin, on Clint Barton.

Clint went limp, and Pietro carried him over to his own bed. What was he going to do to fix this?

~~~

_You swore that you'd never lose your control…_

Clint’s dreams started as they normally did. Pietro pushed him aside, body riddled with holes as he sunk to the ground. Then the dream morphs. He sees Pietro holding Wanda’s body, sees Pietro spit at him: “How could you let her do this?”  
The dream changes again, and Laura is holding Nathaniel, stuck in a burning house while two of his children are carried off by faceless men in black.  
He dreams of the tortured cries of his children, and wakes abruptly.

“Hey, are you okay?” Comes the quiet, accented voice from the other side of the room.

“Dandy,” replies Clint flatly. He won't be going back to sleep tonight.

“You were having a nightmare,” Says Pietro, who’s suddenly standing over him.

“Yeah, no shit, Speedy,” sighs Clint,

“Here, move over,” motions Quicksilver, and for some reason Clint finds himself scooting to the side of the bed.

‘This is a bad idea,’ says something in the back of Clint’s brain, but then Pietro is warm and their legs are touching underneath the blanket and there's nothing else.

And Clint falls asleep again, and dreams of Pietro’s hands in his hair, and his lips, and his blue, blue eyes.

~~~

_Baby, let yourself go, cause part of you hides..._

_‘Shit,’_ thinks Clint in the morning, _‘Goddammit, I’m too old for him, this is bad, my kids are missing, why am I doing this, **bad** gay thoughts.’_

He carefully gets out of the bed, and creeps into the bathroom. He’s hard, and hot, and he can't stand this. _Fuck_.

He gets in the shower, contemplates having a cold one, but his mind is elsewhere and he bites back his moans until it's done.

He throws on some clothes, and makes his way to the kitchen. Natasha is sitting there at the breakfast bar, reading some news article in Russian on her phone.

When she glances up, she laughs. “Have a good sleep, Clint?”

“Ah… sort of? Why?” He asks.

“Your face is flushed, and you’re practically glowing. Also, your hair is wet, so you've had a shower. This early? I'd say you had a pretty nice dream,” she smirks.

Clint just rolls his eyes and starts making coffee.

“I'm curious though,” Natasha says after a moment, “As to who.”

Clint freezes, looking down, and sighs.

“I’m kidding,” Natasha laughs.

Wait, _what?_

“I know who it is. It's totally fine, my friend. You're going through a tough time, so is he. You deserve each other. He better be good to you, though,” Nat takes her smoothie - wait, was that there before? - and leaves the kitchen with a wave.

~~~

_I know the hunger inside of you’s strong, you can only hold back the river so long…_

Pietro was done with the tension. For weeks, Clint had been tense. About his kids, about Laura, about Quicksilver himself.

And he couldn't take it anymore. Watching Hawkeye break himself apart. Watching Hawkeye. Watching Hawkeye’s body move, watching his eyes as they focused on a target, watching his hands and his arms and his legs and his ass and his chest and his shoulders and everything about him was calling Pietro to _touch_.

Pietro wanted him so badly, but he knew that if Hawkeye wasn't ready for that, especially now, that was fine. But he needed to know, because it was driving him crazy.

Then one night, he got his chance. Pietro was back in the gym, punching the bag, thinking everything over. This was stupid. Hawkeye wouldn't want him. He’d just lost his wife.

 _‘His ex-wife,’_ Pietro reminded himself.

“In here again, Quicksilver?” Came Clint’s cocky voice, his hands on his hips, “Wanna spar?”

“Ah, a rematch, huh? Well, I guess I’m just irresistible,” Pietro snickered.

“Uh huh,” Hawkeye smiled, “Get in the ring.”

After a few punches, Clint is knocked down. He hasn't been at the top of his game the past few weeks.

It's so familiar, breathing over the top of Clint, that Pietro nearly wants to stay there forever.

And then, Clint flips. Just like last time, but inverted.

And he's over Pietro now, heavy and warm and breathing deeply, and he smells like cologne and burning wood and sweat.

And Clint laces his fingers with Pietro's, and pushes him down, and kisses him hard. Then he pulls back, his hips straddling Pietro as he sits on his legs.

“Is that… okay?” Clint asks so hesitantly it nearly makes Pietro cry. “Of course, it’s fine if it's not, actually that'd be perfectly normal, I’m probably too old for you anyway-”

Pietro pulls him down by the collar, then, lips still connected, he hoists Clint further up his body and sits up, so Hawkeye is straddling him around his waist.

“Let’s be clear,” Pietro says, breaking away, “This is very, very okay.” And then Clint is impossibly close, and they're a tangle of arms and hair and legs and mouths and everything is hot and Pietro’s heart is beating so hard he thinks it'll burst out of his chest.

~~~

 _Leave all that's burned behind_...

When the kids are finally extracted, a little shaken up but no real damage, they're held tight by their father, as tightly as possible. And everyone takes care of them. Nat teaches them self defence, Cap teaches them some endurance, and Tony, the foul-mouthed idiot that he is, teaches them some new words.  
And they always wonder about the past, and they always wish they could change it. And they always wonder what the future might hold, and they always wish they could see it. They always. They always. They always.

And Wanda stays with them, just like Pietro would have stayed with them - if he'd stayed dead, that is. Those twins are fire, fire that burns hot and lights up everything. Their’s is the fire that still burns six feet underground, and Clint Barton knows he wants that fire by his side till the day he dies.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave comments and kudos i'll love you forever


End file.
